


Fresh Flesh

by pesha



Category: Original Work
Genre: Biting, Cannibalism, F/M, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pesha/pseuds/pesha
Summary: Love finds a way even when life cannot.





	Fresh Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Written for That Writing Place 2018 Secret Santa Exchange

Warm and rich, dark and earthy, the flesh tasted better than anything Amos had ever eaten. He couldn't stop himself from tearing another chunk away from the arm he held. Fresh flesh was always best.  
 _  
'It's not an arm. It wasn't a person. Don't look below the bend. There is no hand. There are no fingers. This is meat. This is food. This is life.'_

Amos was the carrier of burdens in the studies of the prophets. A lot of expectations had been placed on the shoulders of Amos Weinreich from the very first day of his life; he was grateful his parents had at least chosen a minor prophet to name him for as he was more okay with being a minor disappointment for a minor prophet than a major disappointment for a major prophet. How much did he want to press his luck against YHWH's Grace? 

Chewing the flesh in his mouth took his attention away from the smell of Aria. 

"It's good? He was only infected a day ago. He didn't have any signs of spreading outside the sentinel site. I checked him really good before I picked him." 

Aria was hard to ignore. She was the kind of girl used to being noticed. Her figure was perfect, her looks far, far out of the league Amos should have been able to play in, and she was smart. 

Amos thought her intelligence was the biggest reason she had never become one of the It Girls. 

Smart girls had to be willing to play dumb to be It Girls. 

"Do you need more tonight? He's in good shape. I could take some of the chest without any cause for concern. I know how much you like the thicker muscles. His pectorals are solid enough to look close to filet cuts." 

Any other guy would have been worried if their girl was talking about how thick another guy's pecs were. Amos only gnawed down to the joint of the arm while avoiding looking in his girl's direction. She wasn't interested in looking at another guy. She was only interested in looking at him---and he was only interested in her looking at anything _other_ than him. 

"Amos? Talk to me?" 

He could still talk. 

Speech came and went for those who were infected. The infection came in stages. 

Stage One saw a notable pallor to the skin, fevers and chills, an inability to tolerate fruits or vegetables, nausea, cramps, diarrhea, and every possible sign of a really, really, really bad flu. 

No one had panicked over Stage One. 

In the beginning of the infection, everyone went about their day while trying to avoid people who sneezed or coughed around them. The news didn't feature it as anything special. There were no worldwide announcements. No one was scared. 

Everyone should have been.

Stage Two started with people feeling better. Not a little better, not some better, but _amazingly_ better as if they could run a marathon, climb Mount Everest, or do everything on their To-Do List in an hour or less. People had racing pulse rates, shallow breathing, higher temperatures, flushed skin, sweating, dehydration, and mania. 

Some people started to panic about Stage Two. 

When older people started acting as if they were teenagers again and young people became a whole other kind of reckless, family members began reporting the behavior to their primary care doctors, local hospitals, urgent care centers, and hospitals. ER visits were forced on many Stage Two infected who weren't interested in any kind of test or help at all because they felt _amazing_. There were some general statements made in larger cities regarding a strange new flu strain, but no one was told to fear the infection.

Everyone should have started running then, right then, not when Stage Three started up. 

A talk show host was the first to cause a panic over Stage Three. 

Who knew those shows were _really_ live? 

Amos hadn't seen the broadcast, but Aria had checked it out on YouTube. They'd both laughed. It looked like a meme waiting to happen. There were memes made about it for a few days. Laughter was the best medicine for a new flu strain, right? People were allowed to laugh about the guy who attacked a former girlfriend and bit her face on camera. That was funny, wasn't it? He was being stupid and it got out of hand. He wasn't eating her face. 

Except.

He had been _eating her face_. 

Stage Three resulted in a ravenous hunger for meat, fresh, warm, still bleeding meat. Any meat was good for a Stage Three infected. People who made it to Stage Three started turning on their families, their friends, strangers on the street, biting and tearing and eating, always eating, never full, never satisfied, never anything other than _hungry_.

Everyone panicked when the Stage Three infected overcame the military barriers at emergency shelters set up to handle the overwhelming number of bitten. 

Amos had never been taken to an infected camp. He'd been bitten trying to get to see Aria. They had flashlights they used to send Morse signals to each other so he could climb up the trellis of her house to get into her bedroom at night or she could climb down it to go with him. They didn't care where they were as long as they were together. His parents were entirely too overprotective to invite Aria to stay with him while they were home on breaks from college; her parents were easy-going enough to have no problem with Amos spending the night with them any time he wanted except they were bad to _talk_ about him staying the night. 

Shame was something no son wanted to bring to his family name. 

"Amos!" 

Aria wouldn't stop until he answered her. It didn't matter to her the meat would go cold, tough, and lose its flavor if he didn't eat it fast. There was no way to explain to her how bad the taste became when the meat was _dead_ in the dead-forever kind of way. Some things didn't have words to explain them. 

"Still eating. Hungry. I'm sorry." 

Her sigh was fond, relieved, even a little pleased the way she'd been any time he came to surprise her between classes or between jobs. 

"Don't worry about it. Eat. Tell me if you need more though, okay?" 

"Yes." 

Amos knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as the word left his mouth. He'd have taken it back except he was finished with the forearm and working on the fingers. It took effort to strip the meat from around the knuckles, to tear away the nails and spit them out before they ruined the flavor of the flesh; Aria never stopped to think about how hard it was for him to eat a hand because she was too focused on him eating, eating, eating so he didn't stop living. 

Stage Three was still living as long as the infected were still eating. 

Everyone knew the infected were still -technically- alive at Stage Three, but it was easier to use words like 'undead' or 'zombie' to describe a former friend or family member who only wanted to eat raw flesh all the time. Speech was something they could manage. They could manage a lot of things. It wasn't a matter of what they couldn't manage as much as it was a focus on what they _always_ managed: _eating_. 

"I'll be right back!" 

Aria breezed over to him -her scent salty from the sweat beaded on her from running back and forth from the camp to where Amos stayed- to kiss his cheek softly, ignoring the blood streaked on his clammy skin as gracefully as she ignored everything else which had changed about him. 

She would come back. He was certain of it. 

Amos would finish the arm while she ran to the camp to cut free a portion of a man's chest for him---and Aria would come back with his bleeding treat in hand, never thinking about the consequences of her actions should she get caught feeding him. 

"Don't." 

His demand was heard only by himself as a result of Aria's fleet feet. No one shared space with Amos. There were Stage Threes who lived together in packs or herds. Amos had seen them fighting among themselves, biting only occasionally because their flesh didn't taste the same as that of uninfected meat. Most of the herds or packs formed to hunt a specific type of meat or because they wanted to fuck as much as they wanted to feast. 

Amos couldn't stop shaking as he went to the barrel he caught rainwater in, dunking his whole upper body into the water before standing straight again. He shook his hair out -it was becoming too long to be manageable, the curls a riotous mess which covered his ears and most of his neck now- and tried to get his arms and hands clean before working on his face. Scrubbing at his skin until he could no longer smell any trace of blood or meat or _death_ on himself, Amos stripped his clothes off entirely to be sure he was as fresh as he could get for his Aria. 

"I managed a lot faster this time! I told you he was a good pick. No one expects him to live through Stage One so they're not checking his bandages. I'm hoping he stays alive long enough for us to get the other chest muscle and maybe a leg. I know how much you like a good thigh. It's just so much harder to carry a leg than an arm. Plus the saw is harder to use on the hip joint than the shoulder. I wish I had like---like maybe a chainsaw? Do you think we could find one? I could walk a Stage One here and it'd be a snap to harvest them with a better blade. I bet I could---" 

Amos stopped the flow of words from Aria's mouth by covering it with his own. He didn't worry about infecting her with kisses. They already knew how the infection spread. Her skin was the very best flavor to him, yet Amos would never, ever bite into her flesh. She was all he loved. She was his everything. She was more than food. She was more than fucking. She was _everything_. 

Her legs were strong around his waist; her sex was hot enough for him to feel it even through her skirt.

"Now? You okay for now? Aria?" 

Sentences were becoming harder because all he wanted was to give into his impulses and do, take, have, _feed_ in any way his body wanted. 

Amos tried for Aria all the same. 

"Yes. I'm more than okay. Do you want to eat the meat first? I can wait. I don't want it to be wasted." 

"Meat," Amos agreed, grinning wide enough to show his teeth, yet making no move to put her down since he didn't even know when he'd picked her up. 

Forgetting why he had not wanted Aria to see him eating was easier than trying to keep Aria from watching him eat. Everything seemed easier when she was grinding her covered cunt against his belly, her thighs squeezing him tight enough to make breathing hard, and she was offering him the meat she'd gotten him with her own hands. 

Her beautiful, capable, strong hands with their clever fingers which she used to push the thick chest muscle into his mouth, panting against his cheek as she whispered to him a dark demand. 

"Eat it. Eat it for me, Amos." 

All he had to do was open his mouth. The flesh was fresh and flavorful as only the healthiest of meats could be; Amos tore a bite free of the chunk Aria held, knowing she'd hold it up for him until he was finished, positive he'd not nip her with his teeth or break her skin in any way which would expose her to the infection. 

Aria was his everything. 

"Yes," she gasped, "Yes, yes, yes. Eat it. Chew. I love the way you smell when you're feeding regularly. I just want to keep feeding you. I want to hear it. I love how strong you are and how much you want it, want me, want us. You eat for me and hold me, okay? Don't drop me. Don't hide. Let me love you." 

Words were leaving Amos at a rate faster than either of them wanted. Aria seemed to be finding all the words he was losing though and wasn't that something? She really was the other half of him. Everything he lost, she found. Aria made Amos whole again. Amos gave Aria a purpose in a world ruined by rot. They were only whole when they were together. 

Squeezing Aria's ass with his hands, Amos wondered if he'd bruise her, knew she wouldn't care if he did, and tore bite after bite from the muscular meat she pushed into his mouth. Blood leaked down his chin, dripped onto his bare chest, wet Aria's dress, and made them both smell of tainted copper. He groaned as his cock realized something was happening. 

Sex was something they'd had before the infection struck anywhere in the world. They had been young, in love, and passionate. Who cared about waiting for marriage? Aria wasn't even Jewish; Amos had no intention of demanding her to convert. Everything had seemed normal between them -fucking and friendship and feeling whole together- before the infection. Amos had no idea how long he and Aria would have lasted if the infection hadn't swept through the world, changing it forever even as it changed them forever, too. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Aria gasped, her hand barely fitting between their bodies with as tight as she was clinging to him and as hard as he was holding her and her hand was around his cock, squeezing as if she needed to be reassured he was hard enough to satisfy her. 

Had it ever been as good before? 

"Yes. Aria. Yes. Now." 

Amos swallowed back the last of the meat in his mouth; his hands clutched convulsively at Aria's ass while she struggled with her dress. 

"Now!" Amos snapped, "Aria! Now!"

Even Aria's hands had trouble working away the material of her dress out of the way, but she managed. She'd always manage for Amos and he knew it as well as he knew the taste of uninfected meat. Aria never wore underwear any longer which made everything so much easier. The musky scent of her cunt made his lips curl back to expose his teeth as he growled at her to hurry. They weren't gentle with each other anymore. Amos couldn't remember why they'd ever been gentle in the first place. Aria wasn't some porcelain doll. She liked it when he fucked her, he liked it when he fucked her, why hadn't they fucked more fiercely before the infection had damned him? 

"Here, Amos, right here. See? I'm right here." 

She was able to guide his cock into her opening, but she wasn't able to stop him from thrusting in with one strong surge of his hips. Aria was wet, but she was tight, she was always tight, and she made a sound close to a shriek as Amos turned with her in his arms. He moved his hands from her ass to her hips, pushing her back against what was left of the retaining wall of his makeshift shelter. Fucking her was easier when she couldn't get away. 

Not that she would get away. 

Or try to get away.

Would she?

"Amos?" 

There was something broken in her voice, broken in a way Amos couldn't take. He was the one who worked to get his hand between their bodies then and he searched with his fingers until he found the peak of Aria's sex. There weren't as many differences between them when they were both desperate for it. Needing it. 

_Starving_. 

"Need you. Need me? _Need_ me." 

Aria gripped his shoulders with hands still sticky with blood. She couldn't bruise his infected body, but she felt as if she were trying all the same. There was no gentleness in her grasping hands. All she seemed to be able to do was groan and huff as he pinched her clit between his forefinger and thumb, rolling the hard little head back and forth, pushing the fleshy hood back to let him tap his thumb against it directly. 

"I need you. I need you, Amos. I'll always need you." 

Her words were as much an oath as a reassurance. Theirs was a love forged in violence and sealed with blood. Amos didn't take care with her as he worked his cock in and out of her grasping cunt. Every time it seemed he'd hurt her, he'd work at her clit with his fingers harder, more focused on her pleasure to keep them together, always together, completing one another always. 

Amos almost lost his balance as his balls slapped into Aria's body when he bottomed out inside her only to feel her inner muscles squeezing around him as convulsively as a hungry mouth trying to swallow down the hottest, freshest flesh ever offered to it. 

"Love!" 

He couldn't finish the sentiment, but the word was enough. Aria understood as she was the one who bit into his flesh, her teeth breaking the skin of his shoulder before he could jerk away or try to stop her. Amos wanted to feel betrayed, scared, anything normal since Aria was exposing herself to his infection. All he could do was press her hips harder into the wall and drive into her over and over as mindlessly as any monster until his own release shot out of him in hot pulses of---life? Death? What was it his body made now it was fueled by the infection? 

"Yes," Aria whispered, licking at the wound she'd made in his shoulder, "Yes, Amos. Love. We're going to be in love forever. You and me. We'll always be together. This way? I know we'll have forever and ever and we'll love each other and feed each other and feel each other and finish each other. Forever." 

Amos sank to his knees, Aria sliding down the wall with him to land in a messy sprawl with their lower bodies still fused together. 

"Forever," Amos agreed, grateful for the Stage Three phase as it kept the horror of Aria's actions at bay. 

They completed one another. This way---they would complete each other forever. 

Aria was right. Aria was always right and fresh flesh was best. 

They'd go hunting together the next day and they'd spend every night from now on together with no reason to part because they only had each other now. Always. Forever.


End file.
